A True Hero
by tilinelson2
Summary: A boy meets a mysterious old man. Is he a dangerous person or a hero?
1. Prologue

It was the hardest of the times, they say. A few decades after the so-called The Great Collapse, the Motavian population had hit a historical low. The systems had collapsed completely after running out their energy reserves, and there was no technology or knowledge to repair them. The climate had gradually deteriorated, and, from a planet covered with lush vegetation, the Granary of Algol, there was little left besides sterile sand and rocky soil. Human life was struggling for survival in such a harsh environment and the once dominant Palman race was critically endangered, begging for the help of the once considered inferior Motavians.

But I was just a child living in the sad remains of what had been the most beautiful resort of the entire star system, the majestic city of Zema. Reduced to shambles after the impact of Palma's fragments, it was nothing more than three rows of wooden houses connected by unpaved roads. Just a few houses had masonry structures, and the house I used to live in was not one of them. While our parents had the hell to pay in order to reclaim small parcels of the barren fields near the polluted lake, and produce barely enough to save us from starvation, the boys of my age could not care less about anything that was not related to playing and having fun. I used to spend the whole days running in the unpaved streets, playing hide-and-seek, leapfrog, follow the master, blind man's bluff, and ball games. I can barely remember what happened in those days, but the story I'll be telling now is deeply imprinted in my mind, as if it had happened yesterday.


	2. A Dangerous Adventure

There was a masonry house in the west side of the village, surrounded by high walls and a rusty iron gate. The adults advised us to stay away from it, for an old bum, who had the habit of collecting every sort of garbage he could find in the city or while roaming aimlessly in the desert, was its inhabitant. Of course, by saying 'don't do it' to young brats as we were, it had the same effect of saying: 'if you don't do it, you are a sissy'. Therefore, my chums and I were constantly peeking through the iron bars of the gate, trying to discover what the old bum was doing with all that garbage, whose gigantic piles could be noticed from outside. However, as cats teasing dogs, we were daring enough to spy the interior of mysterious house only while the old man was out of our reach. As soon as we caught a glimpse of his bald head or worn garments, we disappeared through the streets, like frightened birds flying away to safe heights at the first scaring noise.

At those times, I was too foolish to notice, but I think the old man not only was aware of us, but also laughed at our cowardly behavior. He didn't seem to care about us, as he never chased us or complained about our behavior. Besides, as soon as we considered it safe and we returned to spy his home again, he was nowhere to be found, meaning that he was not worried about us. That should be enough for us stop bothering him, but children are mean sometimes. One of our favorite activities was to invent rumors about the old man in order to scare our friends. The stories gradually became more absurd, and we should know better than to believe them, for every one of us had a share in inventing those stories. However, what happened was that every boy ended believing in some of those rumors and there wasn't a child in that village that didn't fear the mysterious neighbor.

One hot and sunny day, as it had become the norm in the planet suffering an accelerated desertification process, my curiosity about the old man had come to an end. Obviously, it didn't come the easy way. I was playing a ball game in the street, with Tom, Pep and some of the other boys from the neighborhood. During a ball dispute, I accidentally kicked it mindlessly, and much to our dismay, the ball went up, up, up, and towards the forbidden house's left wall, clearing it by a few inches, and disappearing behind it. We were so shocked that the whole scene seemed to happen in slow-motion, and Tom couldn't suppress a loud scream "Nooooooo!".

It took us some time to come out of the shock, each one trying to grasp to his last irrational hopes that it had not really happened, but was just a dream, or a collective illusion. But it was true, and while I was still digesting the sequence of scenes that my retinas had just captured, one of my friends was already reacting to the ball's disappearance.

"Damn, you dork! You kicked the flaking ball there on purpose!" Tom was furious, his face was red, and he adopted the position of someone ready for a brawl.

"So... sorry, it wasn't on purpose..." I stuttered trying to calm him down. I was not inclined to fight against such an irate adversary.

"You did it because you envied me. Now I will cut you to pieces!"

Tom was ready to throw a punch on me, but Pep, who was older and stronger than us intervened placing himself between us and holding Tom's arms. "Enough! He will go to the old executioner's house and get your ball back."

My sensation of relief didn't last more than a few seconds. How could Pep send me to certain death like that? "What? Go... there?"

"Yes, you will go there and retrieve Tom's ball, so everything will be fine." He spoke naturally, maybe with some wisdom we, younger boys, didn't have.

"Do that or expect to receive the beating of your life!" Tom added, still nervous.

"Now, just go. We will be waiting here." Pep pushed me towards the old man's house.

I was destroyed. For a while, I considered that being beaten by my pal would not be a bad idea, for I, like any other boy in the village, feared the old man. That stupid Pep had put me in the worst situation of my life. However, I admit had the ball being mine, I'd have done the same, for good balls were so rare those days. So, with my head down, I walked towards the house like a prisoner walking to the gallows, under the eyes of the mad crowd that rejoiced with pride the fact that someone would take what he deserved while they would return peacefully to their houses after the exhibition. Then, I stopped by the gates of the terror house, hoping some miracle would happen, but nothing happened. There was just Tom staring at me with a grave and threatening expression.

I looked through the gate bars, but I could see nothing but the usual piles of junk. Fighting the urge of running away from there, I looked for a bell, but it looked like there was none, so I clapped my hands shyly, knowing beforehand that, if there was anyone inside, this person would not hear me. In my mind, I could only see a decrepit old man with a manic look on his face, holding a knife and yelling at me while carving the knife mercilessly on the ball until it became just a indistinct leather rag. "Look at it well, little brat, for the next time it will be your head in the place of this ball." I was inclined to go back to my friends and tell Tom I was sorry, but there wasn't anybody inside, hoping it would be enough if I said that I tried. However, as a turned my eyes to him, the look in his eye sent shivers down my spine, and made me assured that my excuse was not enough.

Then, I clapped my hands again, this time louder, while yelling "Hey!" The tension that followed almost drove me mad. I felt like a bait, waiting for the feral creature to come out of its den and swallow me, knowing that the frail thing I called life was about to come to an end. Meanwhile, I heard some faint noises inside, like the ruffling of leaves that precedes the beast fatal charge. And then, the words from a squeaky voice.

"Geez! A boy!"

Terror-stricken, I was unsure if that had been real, so agitated my mind was. I sighed and answered with in a shy manner. "Please, Mr, could you..."

"Please, spik loud'r. I can't 'ear ye!" The mysterious old man interrupted me with a yell. Although somewhat creaky, his voice seemed more natural, making me a bit less afraid. Just a bit.

"Please, Mr..." I hesitated, not knowing how to address the man we used to refer to as the old executioner. "My ball accidentally fell in your courtyard. Could you..." another pause while I tried to convince myself that asking the man a favor was not something absurd. "Could you please throw it back to me?"

A brief silence seemed to last years while I waited anxiously for an answer. The only thing I could hear was the faint noise of a metallic pieces rustling. I did not see it, but I could also feel the weight of Tom's eyes lying on me in a reproaching manner. Thus, the old man answered.

"Sorry boy, I can't." His negative answer made me sigh in relief. It didn't matter to me his motives. I did not care if he was a rude or heartless man, or if Tom would beat the crap out of me, as long as I had survived challenging the executioner. When I was ready to run away, with a smile on my lips, reflecting the exhilarating feeling on my soul, I heard some words coming from the forbidden house of terrors. "I can't leeve what I'm a-doin' now, but the gate's unlock'd an' ye can a-come inside an' tak' it."

I had fallen on his trap. It was worse than I had expected. He would not give me a warning by cutting the ball into shreds. Instead, he was ready to stab me right away. And that metallic hiss was the old executioner sharpening his knife. Trembling, I answered, ready to run for my life. "Thanks, but I can't..."

"What? I can't 'ear ye!" He interrupted me, wasting all the momentum I had gained, crushing my courage to defy his orders and evade that deadly trap. It was no use, my legs were shaking, my strength waining, and I surrendered to the idea that my time had come. There was no way out of my tragic fate, so I surrendered to it "Nothing. I'm coming in..."

As I hesitantly pushed the rusty iron gate, it squeaked loudly, making me cringe at the horrific sound. I was a damned soul opening the cemetery gates to my own burial. At the time, I thought I would feel my legs weighing a ton each while unwilling dragging myself to my own end, but instead I was feeling very light. Maybe my soul had already surrendered my body and left it outside the hell of eternal suffering I had just entered.

I was confused because I could see nothing but mounds of junk were the ancient corpses of a mysterious race of objects from ages past were lying; the only remains of the time that will never return. Behind them, there was a small worn out building, the old executioner's resting place. While I was wondering whether I'd meet my fate inside that rustic shack or outside, I was taken out of my macabre reverie by some sense shouted inside my head.

"Tak' care, boy, ther'are some junk that may a-get ye 'urt"

The advice given in a friendly tone was something that didn't make sense to my disturbed mind, but probably my inner self had already concluded that all my fears were just unfounded boyish drama fueled by the deletery imagery provided by adventure books. Had I been wise enough, my visit to the old man's house would have been something trifle, not worthy of recalling, but I can't look back at those times without being seduced by the charming innocence of my childhood, a nostalgic feeling that will always filter my dearest recollections in a naive and dreamy way. So, my big exploration adventure had started. The brave hero had to retrieve the princess diamond from the den of the evil bandit, hidden in a mountain range never explored by humans before.

The old man's courtyard area was surely smaller than a thousand square feet, but to my eyes, it looked gigantic, and all the hours I told the others I had spent looking for the ball must have lasted less than three minutes. I almost instantly spotted the ball, resting beside a pile of metallic pieces and other parts made of materials unknown to me, and hurried to pick it up and leave, hoping to go unnoticed. However I knew that the executioner was hiding behind the pile of junk, ready to stab me when I was least expecting. Therefore, I advanced slowly towards the ball, trying to catch a glimpse of the man before he could see me, so that I could, at least, run away and leave that house of terrors alive, even if without the ball. However, I did catch a glimpse of a bald man with white beard calmly working with some tools I've never seen in my life. He looked as a centenary to my boyish eyes, but I think he must have been on his late seventies or so, because he looked like he was still doing well. Apparently, he had not noticed me, so I quickly took the ball and turned my back to leave, when I heard his voice, making my heart race in my chest.

"Did ye a-find the ball?"

I slowly turned my head to look at him and he was grinning. I was paralyzed with fear and my legs almost gave away, making me pathetically fall on the ground. Although the old man's grin had nothing of evil, I could not help associating it with the malicious grin of the villains in adventure stories. Maybe it was all part of his ploy, to make me feel comfortable and safe, before fiercely striking over me, leaving me unable to defend myself. However, I thought it safer to answer, as if I didn't suspect anything, and then run like mad towards the exit. "Yes, mister…"

"Nice." He calmly resumed working with his strange things. Instead of running away as I had planned, I was suddenly taken aback by my own curiosity. It became stronger than my fear, so overwhelming that I had to spill the words that had formed in my throat, for it looked as if they would burn me if I didn't release them through my vocal strings.

"What are you doing, mister?"

He looked at me again and smiled. "I am a-fixin' thin's"

"Thanks." With my curiosity satisfied, it turned back again and ran towards the gate. At that time, I didn't believe anymore that he was a murderer or evil, but I felt a enormous relief as I reached the gates and noticed they were not locked. I had survived my adventure. I was free. And, carrying Tom's ball under my arm, I walked towards my group of friends proudly, knowing that they would praise my courage for facing such a dangerous challenge and coming unscathed. Besides, I recollect that I was sure they would believe any fantastic story I invented about the incident, so I returned to the group thinking about what I could tell them to make me look braver, smarter, and more courageous to them. Luckily, I don't remember which ideas I had came up with while going out of the now not-so-mysterious house, neither I recall what I have told them, because if I did, I'm positive that I would be ashamed of telling that. I just know that the boys praised me and I evaded a fight with Tom, who was very satisfied to have his ball back, unscathed.


	3. Meeting The Hero

So, crisis averted, it should be time to return to the same old activities, as if nothing had happened. However, I was unable to do it, somehow. I don't remember what were my feelings at the time. The only thing I remember very well is that the idea that the old man fixed things bugged my mind, not without a reason. When I went back home, I had already come up with an idea, that I hoped it could work. For that, I would need the help of the man who I had feared for so long. However, after my brief encounter with him, I have convinced myself that we were wrong on our judgment of the old man. And, holding the knowledge that he seemed to be a kind man as a secret, I had already planned another visit to the elder. If he was able to fix things, maybe he was the only hope to fix my most treasured toy.

My father had given me some sort of metallic four-wheeled cart, which moved miraculously by itself. Besides, there was a strange pad made of a hard material called plastic that we were unable to reproduce with some places to press. They were used to control the movement of the cart. My dad has told me it was a very old toy, which his grand-grandfather had given his grandfather, and it was subsequently given to the eldest son of the current owner. I didn't have much memories of it, but as far as I could remember, it used to work perfectly well, but one day it came to a halt, and no matter what, it was impossible to set it in motion again. As my father said, the knowledge on how to make it work was lost in the ages, after the so-called Great Collapse and the death of most of Motavian inhabitants. Somehow, though, I convinced myself that the mysterious old man who could fix things was my only chance to have it working once more. He seemed to be so old that maybe he was one of the wizards reported to be extinct since the extinction event that had miraculously survived it and he would be able to cast the spell that would set my automatic cart in motion perpetually.

Then, a few hours after lunch, I left home trying to not be noticed, taking the automatic car with me, heading to the old man's house. It was curious that not only my fears about his place were dissipated, but also my overall opinion of the once horror-mansion changed considerably. While it was undeniable that some repairs served it well, it didn't look so abandoned and decrepit like I used to think it did. And, when I was peeping once again through the iron gate bars, the courtyard didn't look so messed up anymore. The piles of junk, which looked like dozens of enormous golems were, in fact, very few, much smaller than I considered them to be, and organized by the kind of material. Maybe the old man was a bit disorganized and lazy, but he was not that kind of person who is a compulsive garbage collector.

As the man was nowhere to be found, I clapped my hands and yelled "Mr!" while standing in front of his gate. It took him a while to answer and I was almost turning back when I heard his squeaky yell back "Juss'a second." His voice didn't sound so strange this time, just like the average old man's voice. I was a bit impatient because I feared Pep, Tom, or any of the boys caught me there. After the elaborate story I had made up to cause them an impression, to be seen asking a favor for the man they still believed to be an evil murderer would turn me into a liar. And, while every boy is much of a liar, that badge would plague for years and years, if not forever. So, it was a relief when the old man suddenly showed up in front of me. "Geez! The littl' un again"

He opened the iron gates carefully, but it didn't prevent them from producing an irritating squeaky. "Wha' brings ye 'ere?"

I was feeling very shy and I guess my cheeks were crimson, so much they burned. "I... I have come... mr... mr..."

"Kain. But ye a-can call me Josh, like everybody does." He answered while patting my head in a friendly way. It made me cringe, though, for there was still some fear hidden in the recesses of my heart.

"Grandpa Josh..." I looked at the box in my hand and added, "You told me you fixed things, so I though you may..." The rest of the sentence died in my throat as I suggested with a movement of hands that he took the box.

He motioned me to enter. I hesitantly entered his home. This time, I was not afraid that he would kill me, but anxious for an answer about the possibility of fixing my treasured toy. He closed the gate on my back and, when I turned to look back, somewhat scared, he asked, "Ye ar' Tanner's boy, aren't ye?"

It took me completely by surprise. I thought he was a reclusive man that no one but me has ever seen or talked to him, but he knew who I was and he knew my parents. For a brief moment, I feared him again. Maybe he had been stalking us, with some evil intention. So, I answered stuttering, "Yes… I am…"

Old Kain probably noticed my reaction, so he promptly added while taking the box from my hands carefully "I 'ave been fixin' sume thin's for yer dad lately." I, who considered my interaction with the mysterious old man something exclusive, had just learned, much to my dismay, that my own father had some dealings with him. It also a source of potential problems because I knew I would be scolded if Kain told my father that I've asked him to fix my toy. However, I was inclined to risk even a beating as a trade-off for having my toy fixed. The old man smiled as he removed its top and looked at its contents. "A rimot'-control car! It's been a lon' time since I 'ave saw un."

His words filled my heart with hopes that he would be able to fix my broken toy, because it was clear that he was no stranger to such a kind of mysterious toy. "Did you have one when you were young?"

"Nah!" His negative almost broke my heart, but he promptly added, "When I was yung like ye, boys wer' not much 'nto cars. We us'd to 'ave spaceships."

"Spaceships?" That information left me confused. If my own toy was a big mystery to me, spaceships were something I could not even fathom how they looked like.

"Ah, boy, they ar' a-like cars, but they us'd to fly."

"Like birds?" I was astonished. If I were a few years older, I would think that the old man was senile and inventing things that had never existed, but boys of my age are prone to believe in such fantastic stories. Luckily I believed him because I would learn later that he was telling me the truth.

"Yeah. An' much more. We us'd to a-travel to other planits with them." Kain retold those hard to believe facts of his past so naturally that I had never questioned its veracity. I was so astounded that his answers left me speechless. I recalled my parents talking about Dezoris and Palma, but to know someone who had lived when Palma existed was already surreal. In addition, there were more surprises reserved to me that day, surprises that would help shaping the adult I am today.

As I didn't say anything, Kain went to his workbench, taking my remote-controlled car with him and started working on it. He told me, "It doesn' look complex, but will a-take som' time to fixit. Feel free to a-take a look 'roun'"

While waiting, I started exploring the old man's house courtyard. First, my attention was devoted to the piles of objects, trying to understand what they were. There were many weird things that I could not even imagine what was their purpose. Occasionally, old Mr. Kain would try to enlighten me with a brief explanation on what I was looking at, only to leave me with more doubts than I had before. After some time, though, I was tired of looking to indistinct objects, for they meant nothing for me. I was about to give up my exploration and sit somewhere to wait for the old man, but I noticed a small shack that probably was part of his workshop. There were some real things there, not indistinct parts of indistinct objects whose purpose only old Kain knew, so my attention was attracted to that room.

The room was crowded with objects in the shelves, over the counter, or lying on the floor. One of the things that immediately attracted my attention was a strange hat, lying in a corner of the shack. I immediately picked it up and tried it. Obviously, it was too large for my head and fell over my eyes. The hat looked quite funny, and, for some reason, I felt something strange, like a disproportional weight on my head, but instead of taking it off and returning it to its original position, my mirthful spirit made me go out of the little wooden hut wearing the flamboyant hat.

As soon as Kain caught a glimpse of me, he paused what he was doing and asked me in a joyous way, "Hey, boy, wher' do ye a-think ye ar' goin' with my mogic 'at?"

"Mogic hat?" I asked, surprised. "What is a mogic hat?"

"Itz a 'at that allows ye to undirstan' what the Dezorians say."

"Dezorians?" It was one surprise after another. "Did you... meet Dezorians?"

"I 'ave been ther' myself." He answered nonchalantly, while he resumed working on my toy. "Twas a-very common when me was yun'. I 'ave been to Palma aswell."

"Pa... palma?" It was like a dream to be talking to someone who had been in the lush green planet that used to shine in Motavian skies. The planet that was originally our home. If I ever told Tom or Pep about the things Kain was telling me, they would accuse me of trying to play such an absurd prank on them that not for a moment it had been effective. Then, they would mock me all the time because of that. And the irony would be that, contrary to many of my made-up stories they took for granted, including some bare-faced lies about the very man I was talking to, this time I would not be inventing anything, not even a small exaggeration.

The old man was staring at the horizon blankly, flooded with deep feelings resurrected by meaningful memories. "I a-must 'ave been yer age when I traviled ther'. Twas so biautiful, so cool..." he swallowed back some tears "so great mem'ries. It was th' vacation of my life". Then, he shook his head and resumed working, "It's so 'ard to bilieve it is a-gon'".

It was clear as crystal that he still grieved the destruction of Palma. I would learn years later why he had a special reason to do it, for he had been part of the story surrounding the demise of the once shining jewel of Algol. As he resumed working, I went back to his shack and resumed looking the amazing things he had stored there. After a few minutes, I have found a thing rectangular object with a dark mirror on one of its sides. As I pressed one small circle, the dark mirror started to shine, as images were formed on it. I felt a bit scared, for, in my mind, I still considered him some kind of wizard. My curiosity made me go outside and ask the old man about it.

"Mr... what is that?"

Kain looked at briefly the boy and answered, without stopping what he was doing. "It's a port'ble comput'r."

I became very excited. So that was one of those legendary machines that I've heard about when the elder people mentioned how were the books of adventure stories in their times. I was told that those things called portable computers were able to display the images and reproduce the sounds of the stories in a way that it made them feel like they were part of the scene, observing, hearing, and feeling things as if they were beside the main characters. I had no idea how it would be to see myself inside the story, because it was like the machine could materialize people's thoughts, and I was anxious to experiment that feeling.

"Wow! I never thought I would see one with my own eyes! What must I do to make it put me inside the stories?"

The old man cackled. "I'm afr'id ye a-can't."

"Why not?" I was so frustrated that my words came out with bitterness.

"Becaus' that un 'as no 'olographic videos."

I didn't understand a word of what he had answered me, but I wanted so much to have the opportunity to enjoy those magical adventures that I asked Kain in a not so polite manner. "Why don't you use your magic to make it work for me?"

I saw the man stop his work and come towards me. For a second, I thought he was angry at me, but he crouched in front of me, and, taking the computer from my hands, gave me an explanation about the mysterious device patiently, like a grandfather talking to his grandson.

"Look, boy, it's not th' way dis d'vice works. I'm no magician an' thes' a-things dontch work by a-magic."

I frowned. "So there is no use…"

"Com' on boy, look at th' screen." I looked at the mirror, but couldn't make sense of the images displayed there. "All thes' things 'ere were a-made by someun, to be'ave like that ev'ry time we a-turn it on."

"And why don't you do a story for me?" I was still acting like a pampered child who had been contradicted.

"Bicause I don't a-know 'ow to a-make it. It's no wurk for un person. Ev'ry bit was a-made for a group of piople, to be us'd in ev'rybody's comput'r. But not ev'ry computer has ev'rything, and this un has no vidios." He added calmly. "Besides, ev'rything don' for a computir is almost us'less if th're are no oth'r computers."

In my boyish naivety, I considered that if the man was capable of fixing my toy, he was capable of everything "And why don't you make computers for us?"

He laughed before answering. "Geez, ye don't a-know what ye ar' saying! It's impossible. Makin' comput'rs is a task for 'undreds of people, plus r'sources lon' lost. Unfortunat'ly, it will take decades, or even cent'ries befour Motavia sees a comput'r again."

I was feeling a bit depressed, because, at the time, I didn't understand the gravity of the situation Palmans were enduring in Motavia, and to think that the future was doomed to be a mere shade of the past made me feel angry. "So it means that we are condemned to an empty future?"

Kain patted on my shoulders and answered smiling, as a wise man. "Boy, wh'n I was young as ye ar' now, we us'd to 'ave comput'rs taking a-care of ev'rything. That was what got us wh're we ar' now. As much as I lov'd technology, Algol is not a-ready for that. Now, we ar' strugglin' for survival, th're is no time to grieve for what 'ad been or a-could 'ave been. We all a-must work littl' by littl' to leave a world a bit bett'r for our childr'n. An', as much as I lov'd comput'rs and machin's, I only 'ave time to a-fix and a-build tools that will 'elp people workin' in th' fields and producing food enough to a-save us from starvation." He laughed. "Besid's, I was nev'r good at fixin' those compl'x things. They call'd me a wreckir, so bad I us'd to be with machin's. So I think I'm of bett'r 'elp doing this way."

That was a lesson too big to digest so quickly, so I stayed in silence. Kain held his finger for some seconds in a place marked by a circle and suddenly the images in the dark mirror disappeared. I understood what he meant with that, and went back to the shack, leaving the portable computer where it was stored before. For some minutes, I stayed quietly observing the things inside the shack as he resumed his work. It didn't take long for me to notice a set of knives, swords and some things that resembled the guns mentioned in the adventure stories our parents told us. They made me somewhat afraid because, despite my efforts, I hadn't had erased all the bad impressions about the old man. Just at the moment I was staring at the arms, the old man came to the shack to retrieve something he needed, and I couldn't help but asking him about the arms.

"Why do you have those things here?" I asked, pointing at the guns and swords.

He must have noticed my uneasiness, for he immediately tried to dismiss my worries. "Ah, I us'd thos' weapuns wh'n I was young, to fight a bunch of bad guys. The crooks wer' tryin' to destroy the whol' Algol star syst'm, but we fought th'm back."

"Wow! You had been to a war! How I wish I had been there too!" His answer made me elect him as my hero. I would never expect that the mysterious old man was so cool. He was able to fix things, he had been on Palma and Dezoris, and now I had just discovered that he had been into the army. I considered him the most awesome guy in the whole world, like a hero from those adventure stories I liked so much. I was dying to go back and tell Tom and Pep about that man, but at the same time, I wanted to keep that secret to myself, as if I would inherit some of his coolness for being the only one to know that.

"Heh, I'm sur' ye would not. War is terribl', and I a-hope th're is no war in the futur'."

Kain returned and left me thinking about what he had just said. For a boy, being a hero and fighting in a war is the best thing that can happen to someone. However, maybe life was not like that. All the stories included a happy ending, a beautiful girl for the hero to marry, but the old man seemed to be alone. I don't know if, at the time, I had these deep insights about life and reality, probably not. But I am sure that meeting was a life-changing experience.

I stayed quietly in the shack waiting for my toy to be fixed. It took some time, probably some minutes, or even hours, and I stayed there, in silence, hoping that the automatic cart would work again. I could hear the noises that made me assured that it had not been just a dream, but the long period of anxiety made me wonder whether the man was really fixing my toy or was just fooling me. I looked for some distractions among his things, but few things attracted my attention, and, after a long wait, the man finally returned.

"Done! Your rimote-controll'd car is workin' again!" Kain came smiling; using the part he called the controller to drive the cart through his courtyard.

"Thanks." Although I should have been excited by seeing his magic operating and my toy fully functional, when he returned, he caught me interested in a picture I was holding in my hands. I've already heard about photographs, but that was the first time I've seen one with my own eyes, and it looked impressive. It was almost as if the person in the picture was there, before my eyes. However, Kain was surprised to see me with that and almost dropped the controller on the floor. His countenance changed from cheerful to worried, and, for the first time, I noticed that my curiosity had gone overboard. However, there was no way of getting out of that deadlock if I didn't ask him who was in the picture.

"Who is this girl? She looks… different."

The old man left the controller by my feet, carefully took the picture out of my hands, and absorbed by the image and his own memories, answered to himself "Ah… Nei…"

I stayed in silence, staring at him. He looked very sad, so I decided it would be a good time to leave, since I didn't know how to deal with the situation I had provoked, albeit indirectly. I picked up my toy and was ready to leave, making up some excuse like it was too late and my parents should be worried about me, but he answered before I could leave.

"She was a girl I lik'd very much…" As he silenced, I thought I had seen his eyes wet. I was too young and, for a boy of my age, it was almost forbidden to like girls. If I told my friends that I liked a girl, they would bully me constantly. But I did understand that Dad liked Mom, so I imagined it had been the same with Kain and the strange girl.

"And where is she?" I asked innocently.

"She…" The old man hesitated. "She didn't mak'it…" Another pause and he was drying a tear that insisted falling from his eyes, despite his effort to suppress it. "… From the Great Collaps'…"

After a short silence, when I was recollecting the thought I had just had before, and my suspicions about the contrast between the perfect stories told in the books and the reality was confirmed. I understood that the pretty girl with strange ears should have been his sweetheart, and contrary to the happy endings of the adventure stories, she had died, leaving him alone. I was very disturbed by that thought, and I couldn't stand staying there any longer, so I resumed my original plan. "Well, Mr. Kain, thanks for fixing my toy. I must leave now, it is getting late…"

"Yes, yes…" He abruptly got out of the contemplative state he was in, placed the picture over a table, and started walking towards the gate, slowly, fighting back the painful memories..

I followed him in silence. It took him a lot of time to reach the gate, for he was deeply affected by his own memories, and I felt guilty for bringing them back. As he finally opened the gate, I turned to him and, seeing him still fighting back the tears, excused myself for my impertinence. "Sorry, Mr…"

"Ah, don'tcha worry." He forced a smile at me.

"Well, thanks. Bye." I was feeling uncomfortable with the situation, and having nothing better to say, left.

"Hav' fun with yer car!" He yelled, but I barely heard him, as I left his place running. I didn't even hear the loud squeak of the gates being closed. I was feeling a mixture of joy, astonishment, guilty, fear, and the only thing I had in my mind was to go back home as quickly as I could. So I did.


	4. A Lesson For The Future

Well, after all those remarkable moments, my memories of the same day became a bit more diffuse. While I still remember the important parts of the next events, I, as a pure spectator, didn't hold the subtle feelings and impressions about it. But they didn't matter very much anyway.

Then, when arriving home, I had to face an interesting dilemma. I was overjoyed to have my toy working again, but how would I explain the miracle to my parents? Telling them the truth was out of question. However, my boyish naiveté made me take the worse approach. I sneaked inside my house, and, without saying anything, started to play with the automatic cart, as if it had always worked. I walked to and fro, proudly, like a peacock pretending he was not caring about anything else, but clearly begging for attention with his colorful tail opened. Not more than a few minutes had passed, and my mother had her attention attracted by the car, which I drove inside the kitchen on purpose. Knowing that the toy was broken, she stopped preparing the dinner and came to interrogate me, startled.

"What does it mean? How is it working?" She didn't look friendly at all, and all my pride was dissolved, like a snail when salt is thrown over it.

"I… I…" My stuttering betrayed me immediately. If only the adults were such bad liars as children, life would be rather easy. It wouldn't matter what I said afterwards, my mom knew it was a bare-faced lie. Anyway, I had to say something, hoping that, somehow, she would be fooled by my filial spell, "I just… turned it on… and it started working."

She placed her hands around her waist and scolded me, visibly irritated. My spell didn't work. "Don't lie to me, son. Who did it?"

I was so nervous at the accusation that I blushed and my grip on the controller became weaker. "I… I… fixed it…"

"Hey, stop lying, little brat!" She got really angry. "If you don't tell me the truth…"

She was interrupted by my father, who had just arrived, attracted by the commotion on the kitchen. "Hey, what is happening… whoa!"

He was surprised to see the family treasure resurrected. My mother, though, was already angry and didn't let me capitalize on my father's amusement. "Your son is lying to me, saying that he fixed the toy. Come on, boy, tell us the truth, or you will be forbidden to play outside for the rest of the month! Who did it for you?"

My father was speechless to see his treasured toy working again, but he stood for my mother, feebly repeating my mother's question. I had been cornered, and to stay the whole month locked at home was to a boy like me the same for an adult as receiving a life sentence. Therefore, I answered, fearing that I would receive the same punishment for my impertinence, but even being spanked for disobeying their orders of not meddling with the old man would be better than being locked for a whole month, so I spilled it out. "It was the old man…"

"Who?" My mother inquired, aggressively.

"Mr. Kain, the old man…"

"What?" My father's exclamation of surprise almost scared my soul out of my body. "What did you say?"

I was trembling with fear. Certainly, I had done something very wrong. My father's reaction had been so unexpected that I was positive I would not only be spanked and locked, but also receive the harshest punishment of my whole life. The few seconds of silence that followed were like years for me, like the moments that precede the judge's announcement that the defendant had been condemned to death without appeal.

My father, however, was not worried about what I had done, but about what I had said "Did you mean that old Josh…" He swallowed hard. "…is Josh Kain?" Then, he turned to my mother, who also seemed to be surprised. "It can't be…"

I was relieved to discover that my father's surprise was not anger directed at me, but I was left completely at loss. What could be so special about his name? As far I as knew, there was no Kain in our family. Maybe my instincts were right and he was, in fact, a dangerous person, a criminal, a murderer. However, after having the opportunity of talking to him, I didn't believe that anymore. A cool man who could magically fix my toy, owned amazing devices, had traveled to Palma and Dezoris, had fought in a war, could not be a bad man. After another brief silence, while mother and father talked by telepathy, my father broke the silence.

"Oh, dear, we must check that immediately."

My mother extinguished the fire on the oven and both hurried out of my house. I followed them, instinctively, and when I realized, I still had the controller in my hands, but then it was too late to turn back. On our way, my parents exchanged just a few laconic sentences, as if they were desperately trying to hide something from me. I was very anxious, because I considered the possibility of them scolding the old man, and he was blameless in that story. My friends and I have been very unjust with him, and the kind old man didn't deserve any reprimands for what he had done. After all, he not only have been kind to me, but also took pains to fix my toy for free. While my father lead the group, I tried to talk my mother out of her idea of scolding the man.

"Sorry, mom, it was all my fault…"

"What are you talking about, my son?" She didn't look angry at me, but my question didn't sit well on her.

"Please, mom, don't get mad at him…"

"Shut up, son, you are talking nonsense!"

After that reprimand, I decided it would be better to stay quiet and see how the events would unfold. I had no power to decide what would happen, so I followed my parents, in silence. Besides, I didn't want to risk another punishment right there, to amount to the ones I still believed I was entitled to receive. It didn't take more than a few minutes before our familiar committee arrived at the old man's house gates. The sun was about to set, and the darkness brought a sad feeling to my heart, as if my joy was being taken away from me along with the light. After my father clapped his hands vigorously, we waited. I was anxious, but not like before, because I was so confused at that time that I couldn't be genuinely worried. Besides, my anxiety wasn't meant to last, for just a bit later, I've heard the familiar voice.

"Aye! Mr. Tann'r! What brings ye 'ere?" The old man, who had suddenly materialized behind the iron gates, asked, smiling, while he opened the gate's lock.

"Old Josh..." My dad swallowed hard. "My son..."

"Oh, the boy a-had been 'ere some 'ours ago." Kain interrupted, while opening the gates, that produced a loud squeak. "Oh, Mrs Tann'r!"

My mother didn't answer the greeting. As soon as the old man opened the door, my mother invaded his courtyard and, held him by the arms, as if she had been fallen ill with some mysterious disease that affected her brains. She asked him, anxiously. "Are you Josh Kain?"

"Well, yeah!" The old man answered, confused. He didn't seem to be afraid, just surprised by her reaction. I would learn that he was one of the coolest persons I've ever met.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" My mother released her grab on him, and asked in an accusing manner. Poor mom, as much as I love her, her overtly passionate reactions were, and still are scary.

My father, more controlled, tried to retake the leadership over my mother, before she said or did something shameful, wrong, or both. "Yes, Josh, why didn't you tell us you were one of the Magnificent Seven?"

"Eight."

"Eight?" My father, who entered at the courtyard, was startled. Probably he was not ready to know that the mystic group of heroes had another member other than those the elders had told him.

"Nei." Although his answer seemed to be devoid of emotion, I noticed that he was visibly moved. And I blamed myself for bringing her back to his memories a few hours before, but I was too young to realize that it was one of the most beautiful demonstrations of true love I'd ever see in my life.

My parents probably didn't know about this Nei he had mentioned, or didn't hold her into high account, because my father shrugged and continued. "Why didn't you tell us you were one of the saviors of Algol?"

Kain promptly answered, nonchalantly. "I felt ther' was no need..."

"Why not? You are a hero!" My mother exclaimed loudly, making my father cringe, for he feared she would have another passionate fit.

"But..."

"Josh Kain..." My father was still trying to believe that it was really happening, and for a moment I felt more mature and powerful, because the adults used to say boys are often mixing imagination and really, but I could plainly see my father was not immune to that. "So the old Josh is a savior of Algol. If it wasn't my son, we would have never discovered."

Still on the other side of the gates, peeking through the familiar iron bars, I was proud of myself when I heard that. I was feeling almost like a hero myself. Besides, I was very happy that my image of the old man was shared by my parents, who started calling him the savior of Algol. He had to be a very important person to deserve such title. Moreover, I was very excited about all the things I'd tell Tom and Pep next time we met. I'd sure become the most popular boy in the neighborhood. Luckily, while lost in those childish dreams, I didn't lost the most important moment of that surreal day, which came shortly after.

"Why don't you help us? You know we are almost starving!" My mother scolded Kain, in her usual manners.

"Am I not a-'elping ye?" Kain answered calmly, with a big grin. If he was offended by her tone, he was wise enough to fend her blows, and strike back, like in a duel, leaving her in a fragile position.

"Well…" My mother hesitated. She was aware that he helped people fixing and building simple tools for them to work in the fields, reclaiming the barren fields and increasing a bit their scarce harvests. However, she expected more. "I know that. But you are a hero that saved Algol! Certainly you can do more for us!"

As the old man silently shook his head, my father added. "We've been passing through tremendous difficulties. We need someone like you to save us. Why did you hide your identity from us?"

Kain smiled. "B'cause this world a-needs no 'eroes."

"What?" My parents answered in a disharmonic chorus.

"This world a-needs no 'eroes." The old man repeated his answer, somewhat louder, to make sure he was heard and understood.

"But, the way things are going, a bad crop may mean our extinction. We need desperately someone to perform miracles to take us back to the comfortable state we used to live in the past."

Kain listened patiently my father argument and then answered, in a serious tone that surprised me. "Nah, thatz the las' thing ye need now." And, seeing the bewilderment in my parents' faces, gave us a sermon. The sermon of our lives.

"When I was youn', the world was a-crumblin', but, apart from the magnif'c'nt seven or eight or what'ver ye call us, only a 'andful of people car'd about what was a-'appenin' to Algol. The rest stayed th're, with they armz cross'd, watchin' the downfall of Algol impassiv'ly, 'oping for a miracle. They 'ad learn'd to trust the decr'pit Mutha Brain so much that, until the en', they still a-expected she woul' save them. Palma was destroy'd, Motavia almost, an' the whole star system only surviv'd b'cause a few civilianz d'cided to step up an' fight. That's why ye need no 'eroes."

My father answered stuttering a bit. He was clearly nervous, with his pride hurt. "But what can we do? We are just common people."

"I waz just a common p'rson as well. Do ye know why I join'd their group? Do ye 'ave the faintest idea why?"

The old man barked the last words, and it made us all scared. However, I didn't fear the old man anymore. Although I was not very intelligent, I realized that it was something my parents had said that made him angry. Moreover, I didn't see him as a serial killer anymore. Not even the fact that he possessed a gun worried me anymore, for my curiosity about the old man was much bigger than any worry. My parents were probably more scared, as mother only managed to shake her head negatively.

"I just join'd the group b'cause I've fall'n in love with Nei!" He paused for a moment and all the anger in his voice was replaced by sorrow. "I just want'd to be by her side…" He let out a sorrowful deep sigh. "But, whil' I was th're, I fully embrac'd the gargantuan task we 'ad been given." And he looked down before adding. "Even after Nei's d'mise…"

A moment of silence ensued. My parents had been put in a difficult situation and now I see perfectly well why they were unable to come up with an answer, or anything that would ease their blame for waiting for an hero. As nothing was said, Kain added, calmly. "Yer boy came 'ere a few 'ours ago, an' ask'd me why I didn't build oth'r comput'rs like the un I 'ave. I surely wish'd to build tons of them, but I a-can't. Besid's, what woul' be the use? Once I'm a-gone, no un will be able to fix, provid' support, or evolve them. Even the simple toolz I've a-been fixin', no un ever ask'd 'Old Josh, could ye a-teach me how to fixit?' It doesn't matt'r how much I a-can do, I'm jus' and old chap who will be gon' soon. And, wh'n I die, what will be left? No, this world a-needs no 'eroes. It needs just that normal peopl' stand up and tak' the responsibility of a-doing som'thing for the pr'sent and the futur'. Simple thin's, like a-fixin the toolz, buildin' better houses, organizin' the work on the fiel's, facin' the big threats with a smile on their fac's and courage in their 'earts."

My father scratched his head nervously and, although embarrassed to admit he was wrong on questioning the old man, there was a strange light in his eyes. If my memory is not failing right now, I think that was the moment when he understood, and realized how grandiose the lesson Kain had taught us was. Even I, who was just a boy with nothing useful in his mind, understood the gravity and the wisdom in his plead for someone to step up and take the responsibility for doing what should be done. "Yeah… thinking better, I think you are right." Then, he paused for a moment, probably reassuring himself of his decision, and added. "Can I ask you a favor, Mr. Kain?"

"Sure."

"Would you… teach me how to fix and build tools?"

The anxiety in my father's eyes was broken by the old man's sincere smile, which was already the answer my dad was looking for. "Of course, Mr. Tann'r, it will be a pleasur'"


	5. Epilogue

So, that was what happened, and I think I can end my account from that day here, for nothing else mattered. It has been more than thirty years since the day I met personally one of the heroes of Algol. For many years, my father visited Mr. Kain's house to be taught in those arts, which were doomed to be lost forever. And I accompanied him often, learning a bit of the mechanic trade as well. With old Josh's invaluable help, we were able to recover from the hardest times since The Great Collapse, and, while we have lost most of the technology, at least Palman race is not endangered anymore. We managed to stabilize the crop production and rebuild part of the cities. Zema isn't the same majestic resort it used to be in the past. And probably it will never be, for the Palmans are still traumatized by Palma's annihilation and Motavia's catastrophe. Besides, we had reached an agreement to not pursue technology so avidly as in the past. However, the last time I visited Zema, it looked much more like a city than when I was a child and lived in its ruins' outskirts. Population is increasing steadily, and we are bouncing back slowly from the worst times Motavia has ever seen.

Since my family left Zema, while I was still a teenager, I've never heard about old Josh Kain anymore. And, giving his advanced age, I assume he must have already passed away. However, the lesson he had taught us that day was the most valuable lesson I've ever learned in my whole life. He had planted the seeds on our small community, and they flourished like weed, infecting our hearts with hope and determination to work together for a brighter future. He made us learn from our own mistakes, and I'm sure that if tragedy strikes Algol again, we are ready to work together, Palmans, Motavians and Dezorians, for coming up with a solution and saving our star system from destruction once more. Everywhere I go, I try to teach people about the things he had taught me. But, more important than that, I try to teach them the same lesson he had taught us that day, because I know that the future of Algol must be built over those values.

Josh Kain is still my hero. However, while saving Algol from Mother Brain and the Earthlings was an impressive feat, in my eyes, his biggest accomplishment was showing us that we are not victims of fate, but agents of change. If ,by defeating the Earthlings, he gave us the present, by teaching us that lesson, he gave us the future. I know it will take centuries until we manage to recover all the technology and knowledge we had prior the Great Collapse, but I'm sure that, whenever we reach that point again, we will be prepared to deal with it, for the benefit of the whole mankind. And never, ever, we will see our world being destroyed with arms crossed. Even if we fail to save it, we will fight bravely against our foes. It doesn't matter the outcome, it is better to die doing what is right than to live a shameful life fending off the responsibility placed over us. And I'm sure most of the remaining Palmans agree with me. Fortunately.


End file.
